


Do You Need to Hit Something

by sassy_Tuukka_Time_Tantrum



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_Tuukka_Time_Tantrum/pseuds/sassy_Tuukka_Time_Tantrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a frustrating loss at the hands of the Florida Panthers, Tuukka hits his breaking point and takes it out on an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Human Punching Bag

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after the Bruins lost to the Panthers on April Ninth. I just forgot about it for a while.

Shawn was on his way to the Bruins dressing room. He and Tuukka had agreed to meet up after the game to chat a bit. What he saw outside of the Bruins dressing room concerned him. Tuukka Rask was sitting on a folding chair, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"Tuukka?"

The netminder looked up and Shawn instinctively took a step back. He had seen that vacant look of disbelief on Tuukka’s face once before. It was just after the Blackhawks stunned all of Boston by scoring two goals in seventeen seconds to win the Stanley Cup in the final minute of game six in the series. It was a look that Shawn hoped he would never have to see on the young netminder’s face again.

“Are you okay?” Tuukka looked completely exhausted. The Finn had deep bags under his uncharacteristically tired-looking eyes. The last time Shawn had seen Tuukka look as run down as he did now, the goaltender had been ill.

"I can't do it anymore." Tuukka said gruffly.

"Is now a bad time?" Shawn asked. 

Tuukka shook his head, "I need to talk to someone who isn't on this shit-fest team."

"Okay." Shawn said, "Fire away, I'll listen."

"I can't do it anymore," Tuukka muttered into his hands, "I can't deal with this team. I give them every fucking opportunity to win and what do they do? They skate around like three year olds who are just learning how to play this fucking sport."

"Do you need to hit something?" Shawn asked.

"No." Tuukka responded curtly.

“Okay, okay.”

"It makes me sick to my stomach to watch them in front of me. It's like, I'm holding up my end of the bargain, why can't they hold up theirs? I can't shut teams out every fucking night because they can only manage one fucking goal a game if that. They took fucking fifty shots on net against the fucking Leafs and do you know how many of them went in? One. One fucking lousy shot out of fifty fucking shots hit the back of the net. I give Reimer credit but one fucking goal in fifty fucking shots? Against the Leafs? I was almost hoping for the Leafs to win. But then I wouldn't be holding up my end of the bargain."

"Are you...going to be okay?"

"I don't know, I honestly don't know." Tuukka muttered into his hands again, "I'm fucking exhausted. I'm fucking sore. I've played sixty-nine fucking games and I’m probably gonna start in our last game against Tampa. And I feel like complete shit."

Shawn cautiously approached the goaltender, “I knew things changed this season,” he said, “But I didn’t know things were this bad. You’ve played in almost seventy games? Isn’t that some kind of club record? What about your backup?” 

"I have nothing against Nik but the last time I took a night off, we lost, in a shootout, to the fucking Sabres.” Tuukka said, “He’s definitely been a victim of our shit-fest defense and lazy-ass offense. I mean the poor guy has only played in twelve games. He’s a good goalie too. But we can’t seem to afford to not start me.”

“Ouch…” Shawn muttered.

“The team has already watched me have to leave a game because of a migraine caused by stress,” Tuukka said, “At this point I'm putting my team's wellbeing above my own health. They don't understand that I can't win games for them. I can't fucking score! I can only prevent the other team from doing so. But if I let in more than one goal, we’re done for. I nearly make myself sick before every game thinking about how I can’t let more than one goal in per game.”

“Have you spoken to the team about how you’re feeling?” Shawn asked.

“Just once,” Tuukka said, “I screamed at them and to be honest I’m not even sure if was screaming in English or Finnish. I was just so angry that day that I screamed whatever came to my mind. I came out here because I didn't trust myself to not fly off the handle again."

"I'll ask again, do you need to hit something?"

"What am I supposed to hit?" Tuukka spat, "The fucking wall so I can break my hand? I don’t think breaking my fucking hand would make me feel any better."

“You wouldn’t have to play for the rest of the season if you broke your hand,” Shawn suggested meekly. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Tuukka spat, “I’m not gonna break my fucking hand.” 

"Well, I'm a human punching bag." Shawn said, "You can punch me in the stomach if you want."

"I can't."

Shawn sighed, "Tuukka Mikael Rask, I don't want to see you straight up murder your teammates. So take it out on me instead and punch me."

“Shawn this has nothing to do with you,” Tuukka said.

"You'll feel better,” Shawn said, “And you are not going to hurt me. If that's what you're worried about."

Tuukka sighed and finally punched Shawn in the gut.

"Feel better?"

"A little," Tuukka muttered.

"Good," Shawn said, "I'm glad I could help. You’ve got a good punch that’s for sure. I almost felt that one."

"Fuck you Shawn."

"You should try talking to one of your teammates about this." Shawn said, "I bet Bergy would be able to help more than I can, you should talk to him about it. Maybe even one of your little Finnish goalie friends can help.”

“I will,” Tuukka responded.

“Speaking of Bergy,” Shawn said, “Just how the fuck was he able to get the entire team to shave their head?”

"He didn't threaten anyone." Tuukka said, “It’s hard to say no to Bergy. I felt bad saying no, ya know?”

"Nice, it looks good on you," Shawn said as he spied Patrice in the dressing room doorway who mouthed “thank you Shawn” then retreated back into the locker room, "Now I think you should go back to your teammates, I think they might be a little worried about you."

Tuukka nodded, "Thanks for listening."

"No problem." Shawn said, “You look a little less upset than you did when we first started talking. Call me if you need another rant session.”


	2. The Saint Listens In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to do a second chapter from Patrice Bergeron's point of view.

Patrice watched Tuukka storm out of the dressing room as soon as his media scrum was over. The media team had not been kind to the goaltender. And Patrice could tell that by the end of it, Tuukka had been on the knife's edge of completely flipping out. Patrice would be lying if he were to say that he wasn't worried about the goaltender. The season had been tough on all of them but Tuukka seemed to take the fall for their short comings.

When Patrice was sure that no one was watching he slipped out of the dressing room to see if he could find where Tuukka had run off to.

Nearly as soon as Patrice left the dressing room he found Tuukka sitting in a chair several feet from the door. The goalie was having a quiet phone conversation in Finnish with whom Patrice could only assume was the Finn's girlfriend. After a few minutes, Tuukka's demeanor and tone changed from deadpan to cheerful as Patrice assumed that the Finn was speaking to his young daughter. Once Tuukka ended the call Patrice watched as the smile immediately faded from the Finn's face and he put his head in his hands. Things had definitely become dire if Tuukka’s baby daughter failed to cheer him up. 

Patrice decided to call out to the Finn to talk with him about how he was feeling. He had been meaning to do so for a while but couldn’t seem to find the time. However, a familiar voice called out to Tuukka first.

Patrice watched as former Bruin Shawn Thornton approach the goaltender and Patrice suddenly understood why Tuukka had left. Even though he felt bad for eavesdropping, he decided to stay hidden in the doorway and listen in to the conversation. 

Patrice couldn't help but sigh as he listened to Tuukka speak. Aside from the time when Tuukka completely flew off the handle and screamed at the team in an impossible to follow and confusing mix of English and Finnish, Tuukka hadn't said anything like what he was saying to Shawn to anyone on the team. 

Patrice held his breath once Tuukka started talking about breaking his hand. They weren't quite out of the playoffs yet and even this late in the season, they didn't need Tuukka to sustain an injury. He breathed a little sigh of relief when Shawn was finally able to convince Tuukka to punch him.

Patrice listened to the two talk for a little while longer. Then he noticed Shawn staring directly at him. Shawn winked at him as Patrice mouthed "Thank you Shawn." Tuukka needed that little rant session. The Finn had gone from being loud and animated to being strangely quiet and deadpan. And it was unsettling.

Patrice watched as the two friends bid each other farewell.

"Bergy?" Tuukka's voice called as Patrice turned to reenter the dressing room

"Tuukka..."

"How long were you standing there?" Tuukka asked.

Patrice sighed, "Since you left the room." He said sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I was worried about you."

Tuukka nodded. "I guess I should have talked to one of you first huh?" He asked, "I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did."

"I'm sorry I listened in."

"No, I'm glad you did," Tuukka said, "It means I don't have to say it a third time. Granted you probably couldn't understand it the first time I said it. I don't really know what language I was yelling in that day. I was just so angry."

"It was a hard to follow mix of Finnish and English," Patrice said, "You scared most of the newer guys. You terrified poor Pasta. You even managed to startle Chara a little."

"I'll have to apologize to the guys." Tuukka muttered.

"They all understand," Patrice said, "They all know things have been really hard on you. I've been wanting to talk to you about these things for a while," Patrice said, "But you haven't exactly been easy to approach."

"You tried once," Tuukka said.

"Yeah, I did," Patrice said.

"But you got a little distracted," Tuukka said smirking. “I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to throw up on you that day."

"It was my fault for trying to get you to eat something that day. I knew you were sick to your stomach."

"I'm just glad you didn't get sick after that," Tuukka said.

"I woke up not feeling too great a few days later to be honest," Patrice said, "The day they canceled practice. I didn't get as sick as you did but I definitely wasn't feeling well that day."

"I'm sorry," Tuukka said, "I should have tried harder to avoid you."

"I offered to take care of you that day," Patrice said, "So we're both at fault."

"But seriously," Tuukka said, "You've been worried about me since we were in New Jersey the last time?"

"I've been worried about you since our Canadian road trip," Patrice said, “I've been meaning to talk to you since that game against the Blackhawks where you took four minutes of penalties in six seconds.”

"We still won that game," Tuukka said.

"Yeah but when was the last time you lapsed like that and played the puck outside the trapezoid?" Patrice said, "You're always so careful."

"I don't think I've taken that penalty before." Tuukka said.

"I didn't think so either." Patrice said.

"I'll try to be a little more approachable in the future." Tuukka said.

"I'll try not to listen into your personal conversations again."

"And I'll try to not throw up on you again." Tuukka said.

"Gross Tuukka." A voice came, "Jeez what the hell is wrong with you? What are you throwing up on teammates for?"

"Oh I don't know," Tuukka said as he turned to face Brad Marchand, "The way my team has been playing in front of me has been....difficult to stomach."

"We haven't been that bad have we?" Brad asked.

"You don't want me to answer that," Tuukka said, "You really don't want me to answer that."

"Well anyway," Brad said, "are you done doing whatever you two were doing? Everyone was wondering where you two ran off to."

“Sorry about that,” Patrice said, “I watched Tuukka walk out and I decided to follow him to make sure he was okay. Are you doing better now Tuukka?”

"Yeah," Tuukka said, "Thanks Bergy, I'm feeling better."

"Ugh Tuukka, that's disgusting. Hey everyone stay away from Tuukka!" Brad called as they reentered the locker room, "He threw up on Bergy!"

"No I didn't," Tuukka said, "Well, not tonight anyway. That time I was sick when we were in New Jersey I did. But I'm not sick tonight. I'm sick of watching you all play like shit. But I'm not actually sick."

“You still threw up on Bergy and I’m gonna make sure you never live that down,” Brad said.

“Fuck you Marchy,” Tuukka spat, “At least Bergy didn’t punch me during a game.” 

“You’re just jealous that Bergy didn't punch you in the face!” Brad yelled.

Patrice sighed again and smiled. Hearing Tuukka bicker with Brad was something that he desperately needed to hear from the goalie. “Tuukka!” he called. 

“Yeah Bergy?”

“If you ever feel the need to talk about anything just let me know,” Patrice said, “And I’ll help you out.” 

“Alright, thanks Bergy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about bringing up the whole 17 seconds thing...but it needed to be done for the sake of the story.


End file.
